Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire #1)

Padera scowled.

“Okay, stupid question. I don’t always have access to any. What about pepper?”

Padera did her one-eyed glare, this time sucking in both her lips. “Do I look like a Dherg queen to you? Do you think Drome bestows great riches upon me? And before you ask, I won’t be adding saffron, gold, or emeralds, either.”

The giant lifted his shirt. Beneath was a line of pouches on a long string. He opened one, pinched some of the contents, and held out his hand.

Padera waddled forward, and the giant sprinkled a dash into her palm. One brow went way up.

The giant grinned.

“What’s your name?” Padera asked.

“Grygor.”

“Grygor, would you care to stay for supper?” Padera asked. Looking back, she added, “I think we’re going to need more chickens.”

—

The wall of Dahl Rhen was twenty feet thick, framed with wood, and filled with dirt. Grass grew on the top, but the constant traffic from men patrolling the wall had created a worn path that circled the entire dahl. After the evening meal, Raithe had walked the course from one side of the gate to the other, watching the sunset. The height gave him a nice view of the surrounding landscape. The expanse of the forest loomed to the west as a black outline with jagged edges. The eastern side of the dahl was gentle rolling hills of green. Even in the fading light, he could see the north–south road cutting through the fields.

Raithe walked with his leigh mor tied over one shoulder. The evening wasn’t cold. Spring had let go of winter’s hand and was reaching out toward summer. The transition was most evident in the sounds of crickets and the oscillating din of tree frogs, which was even louder on the forest side.

Traveling will be easier now.

Hearing the ladder’s creak, Raithe turned and was surprised to see Persephone climbing up. Trotting over, he extended his hand to help her up. The act was instinctive, but after feeling her fingers, the intimacy of the moment struck him. Hands could be such expressive things; hers were incredibly warm.

“Malcolm said you were up here. He thought I should let you know I was heading over to speak to Konniger,” Persephone said as she reached the top. “But honestly, I don’t think there will be any trouble.”

Persephone faced him with hands folded, still wearing her black mourning dress. Her head tilted down as her eyes looked up; that tilt made up his mind.

“Nice up here on a night like this,” she said. “I’ve walked this circle hundreds of times.”

“Not many places where you can see so far.”

“You haven’t been to the top of the tower in Alon Rhist then, have you?”

He shook his head.

“But you’ve seen it, right? The tower?”

He nodded. “Dahl Dureya is near Grandford. The tower is hard to miss, but it’s not like the Fhrey give tours.”

She looked north as if trying to see the great spire. “Did you have family in Dureya?”

“No,” he said, “not anymore. I used to have three brothers and a sister. Heim and Hegel died together in the High Spear Valley, fighting the Gula-Rhunes. They’re buried there in a mass grave.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t like my brothers. Not even Didan, who was the nicest and closest to me in age. Even he was a bastard. Stabbed me in the hand once because I was playing with his new dagger. Held me down and put the point right into my palm and said, ‘So you want to know what the blade feels like, do you?’?”

She grimaced as if Didan’s stab had just occurred. “How old were you?”

“Six,” he told her. “So yeah, I had some pretty awful brothers, but my sister and mum were terrific. Luckily for us, my father and brothers weren’t around much. When they were gone, we’d stay up late, singing songs and telling stories. Kaylin, she was my sister, had an incredible imagination. Almost every tale had a ghost or dragon and a hero who rescued a beautiful girl. We’d be in the house around the fire with the winter gales shaking the walls, listening to her go on. She helped us forget how low we were on dung bricks and how cold the night would be. Kaylin could do that sort of thing with her stories, take you someplace else, someplace warm, someplace wonderful. Best times we had were when everyone else was off to war and it was just the three of us.”

Raithe stopped talking and gritted his teeth, feeling his throat tighten. He squeezed his left hand, the one Didan had stabbed.

“We tell stories here, too, but most aren’t so pleasant. The heroes are usually lost in the forest and either eaten or sucked away into the spirit world forever. We tell them to keep children out of the forest, but it makes winter nights bleak. I think I would have liked your sister’s stories better.” Persephone brushed back her hair and looked out at the fading light. “Malcolm says the two of you are leaving in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Raithe replied. “At least I’m going. Can’t speak for Malcolm.”

“Why are you leaving?”

Raithe looked to the north again. “I don’t think it’s safe having the God Killer here, well, in any village, really. Best if I find a little out-of-the-way place of my own.”

“But I was hoping you’d—”

“Yeah, I remember what you were hoping, but I’m not keenig material.”

“You’re a great warrior, and you have tremendous courage.”

“No. I’m just a stubborn Dureyan, which I guess is another way of saying stupid. You don’t want a stupid keenig.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. You’re brave, kind, and decent.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you fought for me at the cascade and against the wolves. You stood up against Konniger and faced the gods when no one else dared.”

“Whose point are you trying to prove?” He smiled.

She smiled back and was prettier for it, younger looking.

“Listen,” he said. “I sort of made a promise to myself. I come from a family of warriors. All my father and brothers ever did was fight, one battle after another. It’s all they knew, so that’s what they did, kill and burn. They were good at it, good at destroying things, but they died fighting. None of them ever accomplished anything…well, positive…or lasting. They never built something or made a difference. I want my life to amount to more than years of bloodshed.”

“But being keenig is—”

“Is just more killing. Don’t you see? You want me to be like my father. You want me to lead people into battle, to kill and destroy. I want something else.”

“What do you mean by else?”

“Better.”

“Better?” Persephone chuckled. “What could be better than being the leader of our entire race?”

“To live somewhere safe and raise a family. To teach my sons to do the same. That would be good and lasting.” Raithe allowed himself to look directly into her eyes. He always did this with men; anything less was disrespectful, even cowardly. But with a woman, the same action felt indecent somehow. Maybe because he enjoyed it. He couldn’t hold his gaze and still say what he planned, so he looked back out at the hills.

“I was thinking…hoping…you might consider coming with me.”

“With you?”

He kept looking over the wall. “I don’t see how you can stay. Your chieftain is siding with Hegner, and he’ll have to administer justice. If you stay, he’ll punish you. What do they do to killers here?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He wanted to get it all out. “Whatever it is, be hard to do if you’re not around. Besides, you’re like I am: You don’t have a family, not anymore. You don’t even have a home to call your own.” He let his eyes return from their exile and look back into hers. “I’ve enjoyed your company, and it sounds like you’ve done a lot of traveling and know your way around. It’d be nice having you along. I’m thinking we can find someplace where we could both start over.”

Her brows were up and her mouth open even before she spoke. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

Her tone sounded just short of laughter.